


Balls of Confusion

by orphan_account



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, Fack Paul, M/M, based on a true event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 20:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18415085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Based on an allegedly true event happened in 1981 Argentina. More about this in the end notes.English is not my first language and I aint got no beta so bear with me xx





	Balls of Confusion

Initially, I moved to Buenos Aires to be an actor. The entertainment industry does not exist in my small town, and my families are so supportive of my decision. Our handsome boy, my mama would always say, so young and so strong, you will look so good on screen. Which is why I did not tell them anything when I become a hooker six months after I moved here. Imagine! Being so supportive of your son’s acting career but turns out he has been selling sex for a living? 

But I’m not unhappy with what I do, especially when it comes to occasion like this where I’m asked to a fancy hotel. “Don’t ask anything,” is what Mateo said. It’s usually like that when the works are in these posh places. The clients are probably some fat white men from America or Europe, and questions from their Argentinean rent boy is the last thing they cared, naturally. But they pay really well. 

What surprises me, however, is how many other boys are also coming. When I got into the limo, and I’m not the last one they are picking up, there are already at least eight other guys in the vehicle. “How many clients are there?” I ask, to which half of them ignored and the other half shrugged at me in various degrees. “I told you to not ask questions!” Mateo yells from the front passenger seat. “This is a high-profile client.” He still answers. “How much is he paying?” this time Mateo turns his head and grins. 

 

**

 

We enter the presidential suite about half an hour later. Although I had worked at this hotel before, I’ve never been to this suite. It’s glittering, huge, and filled with music and flowers at this moment. A woman’s singing with a beautiful voice about love, is there anything else they sing about anyway? For a moment, there’s no one there in the living room. Just a dozen of us standing there in this overheated luxury room, looking at each other; of course, you are not there to be seen covered in clothes, but you have to go through the streets and lobbies without getting beat up, so wearing somewhat decently is still necessary. I’m wearing a leather jacket and nothing beneath, but the room is so warm that I’m getting hot already.

As if someone hears my thoughts, a voice comes from behind us. “Boys, take off your clothes and come have some treats.” A man arrives mid-sentence, merging from a glamours door on the side of the room. A mustached man with blue eyes and brown hair. One of those clones. I’m glad he’s not old and not bad looking, I’ve had enough unpleasant guests in the past few weeks. 

But it soon becomes clear that he’s not the one we are seeing. As he brings out an abstrusely nice-looking sliver plate, he smiles but the smile barely dip the cover of his face, and he’s not really looking at any of us. I wonder if he is one of the servants of our client, but I was told to not ask any questions. And what’s in the plate soon captures my interests. 

Those white powders that are starting to appear in Argentina. I’ve only had them a few times, and the experiences had been amazing. I’m suddenly a lot more interested in the job, and I can sense the same energy from the guys around me. The mustached man must feel it too. He smiles again, still a smile that doesn't reach down, but he seems to be pleased. “Have some fun with these. I’ll let you know when you should come into the bedroom.”

I take off my jacket, and the others start striping too. The mustached man leaves without laying an eye at any one of us, probably to let his master know we are here. Whoever on the other side of the door is not my concern now, as I quickly approach the cocaine now lying on the living room table.

It feels like a short while after that we see the mustached man again. Or it could be a long time. I can’t really tell. We are basically having a party at the living room ourselves, and as I decide I will join the making out session with these other two guys and almost forget why I’m in this hotel room, the guy reappears. 

Did I mention he’s fully clothed? It becomes more apparent now that all the rest of us are naked. “You can come in now.” He simply says that, and as we all laugh and stumble our ways to the direction of the room, the guy next to me brings the plate along. There are still some treats left. Somehow this makes me giggle, and the mustached man shows that pleased look again. “Don’t worry, there’s more inside.” He smiles. 

The bedroom is dimly lit with a sort of orange lighting, it is even more extravagant-looking and smells fantastic. This is also where the music comes from as a record player sits at the corner. In the middle of the room is this enormous canopied bed that looks like the most comfortable thing in the world. The mustached man is on the bedside, sitting next to another man.

The man on the bed is wearing a yellow bathrobe. Short dark hair, also mustached, with high cheekbones and eyes that are dazing at the ceiling. He is probably the leanest and youngest client I have in a while. “Freddie, our guests are here.” The mustached man whispers to his ear—he somehow looks so much more confident now he is talking to this other man. 

Freddie doesn’t seem to be responding. The mustached man looks up, for the first time since we come in does he take a proper look at us. Some of us are already treating ourselves with more drugs on a table, while others like me are still high on the previous consumption. “I will pick one for you to start.” Another whisper. 

And the first one isn’t me. I’m not bothered; even though I’m confident about myself, some of the guys that come with me tonight are the best you can buy from this city. Besides, the drug makes everything much more fun that I find giggling with other guys over nothing hugely entertaining. I sit on the sofa, surrounded by my fellow hookers, with drinks in my hand and just stare at what's happening.

It’s definitely not the first time I watch other people have sex, but things do feel a bit different. I watch Ricardo, the first one picked, slowly climbs up to the bed. He approaches gradually to test the water, truly one professional even when he's high. But there is little response; Freddie just stares ahead, only until Ricardo is untying his rob does he lower his gaze. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle.” The sudden voice of the mustached man startles me. When did he take a sit at that chair over there? I have no idea. Why is he staying at his boss’s bedroom when he’s about to have sex with a rent boy anyway? “Freddie likes it rougher.” He instructs further. What is this? A small part of my mind says, before getting occupied by another inhaling. 

I'm not sure how much time has passed when I’m coming down from the high. But I find myself in the middle of kissing another boy with his hand sliding down to my cock. “Hey,” its the voice of the mustached man again, “You’re not here to fuck each other.” 

I mumbled some words and looks around before realizing some time must have passed, since Ricardo is no longer on the bed anymore. Instead it’s this huge guy that is on top of Freddie. They are in the middle of it, and apart from the grunt of the big guy, there is no sound from the bed, though I can see the smaller one’s legs spread around the waist, following the motion. For a moment it’s almost like he is the one who pays to fuck Freddie, not the other way around.

“You are up next.” The fucking voice again. Why is he still here? I look at the direction of the mustached man, who is still fully clothed in this room full of naked bodies. When I get up and lead myself to the bed, I can still feel his gaze at the back of my head. 

The big guy barely finished, he is still moaning and thrusting although he’s on his way of slowing down. I’m not sure whether I should join them or wait, and as if he can hear my thoughts, the voice clues in, “Wait till he finishes.” 

So I wait. It wasn’t that long, but I get a closer look at my client, and it solves part of the mystery. Freddie is not responding probably because he is drugged out of his mind—he’s pupils are extremely wide and he’s pale like a sheet. This makes me feel a bit weird, fucking someone that is barely conscious, but the previous guy has finished, and it’s my time to do what I am paid for. 

I climb on top of him and lean down to put my tongue into his mouth. Maybe because he is smaller and acts so docile, that I find myself become more gentle than usual. I put my hands down to his cock and is impressed by its size. It much feels good to ride a big cock like this, and judging from the come on his stomach, he hasn’t got the chance to put it inside someone’s ass tonight. But before I could give it a proper stroke, there goes that voice again. “No, Freddie doesn’t like to use his cock.” He sounds a bit mad since I improved something out of his plan. If I was too high to understand this is some kind of game where we are here to fuck his pet in line so he could watch, I fully get it now. And act as told.

When I trust inside his hole I feel it clenches and some tiny sounds come out the man underneath me, but that is about the only responses I get. Freddie’s hole is filled with semen from the guys before me that grinds between my cock and his walls. As I start to thrust harder and harder, it turns out the mustached man is right; Freddie does like it rough. He begins to groan when I hit hard, and it makes me try even harder by putting my hand on his throat, just to see how it goes. He opens his mouth without sound, but clenches so much tighter around my cock, that I tighten my grip. But then Freddie's hands come up to touch my forearm, and he looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t have a voice.

I let go with confusion. I thought he’s enjoying this. “No,” Freddie whispers, and stares at me with watery, meekly eyes. These are the first words I hear from him since we come in. “I can’t have marks on me.” He adds quietly. So I let go and tries to build the momentum back with all I got from my six months of experiences. But when I twist my hip to unload inside him, he does not come. In fact, he was barely hard the whole time.

Trying not to take it personally, I pull out while gently kissing him. Usually it’s the hooker who doesn’t come. When I close his legs to one side, I hear someone steps to the bed. Of course it’s the mustached man. Behind him is one of the guys who obviously is the next one in the queue. 

“I’m tired now, dear.” The way Freddie talks to him is almost nervous as if he is apprehensive of his own weariness. “Are you sure, Freddie? You were having so much fun. Why don’t you take these?” He answers in a voice so smooth as if he’s nurturing a child, then offers his plate. They lock eyes with each other, so I find my way off the bed. I don’t think Freddie answers.

 

**

 

All of us were paid so generously that I don’t have to work for the rest of the month. I thought all of that was for the pleasure of that mustached man, until I saw Freddie in the newspaper while having a call with my sister. 

“Fuck,” I mumble to myself, standing in the phone booth and eyeing the picture of Freddie at the front page. “What was that? ” My sister asks on the other side of the line. Moments later I tell her, “A guy I met the other day is on the front page. He’s obviously some famous singer.” And feels like a completely different person too. “You mean…Freddie Mercury? How could you possibly meet him?” She laughs. “You are no one.”

“Hey!” I protest her doubting tone, “I’m a working actor, of course I meet other people in the entertainment business.” “Yeah yeah, but he’s Freddie Mercury! He is the greatest singer of our time!” She cackles, and the paperboy steps away. And that was the end of that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an event I first read in Somebody to Love: The Life, Death and Legacy of Freddie Mercury. Here's a link to a post that further discussed this.  
> https://frottingwithfreddie.tumblr.com/post/133260974850/may-i-ask-you-something-because-youve-previously#notes


End file.
